


Beginnings

by Cinnamongirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff with feelings, Suicidal Thoughts, Zevran has a nice ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8131027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamongirl/pseuds/Cinnamongirl
Summary: She was supposed to kill him, but somehow he decided to beg for mercy instead and somehow she decided to spare him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scoutdoesstuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutdoesstuff/gifts).



> Thanks to [dreadwolftakeme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwolftakeme/pseuds/dreadwolftakeme) for beta-reading! You should definitely go read The Trevelyan Paradox after you finish this (along with the rest of her works, if you have time).
> 
> I feel like the sex scenes in this story are somewhere between M and E so I went with the higher rating to be safe. I just don't want to disappoint anyone who is looking for super-explicit smut.

_Death is like an inappropriate uncle who always stands too close._

Zevran has never had an uncle, or any other family to speak of, but it's a phrase he's heard repeated among the Crows and it seems appropriate enough for something that is dangerous and unsavory but always familiar. Come to think of it, assassins seem to have many of these sayings about the concept of death. He wonders if glass-cutters and olive-growers are similarly philosophical about their professions.

He's chosen a pleasant day to die. The weather is warm and it hasn't even started raining yet. It will, inevitably, start raining soon. He's learned that in Ferelden it is always either raining or about to rain. 

_Death is like a rash that never quite goes away._

There are two Wardens in blue and silver armor: a tall one and a short one, both bearing shields and longswords. It won't be long now.

Death has surrounded him since the moment of his birth. He always knew that this was coming. It's honestly surprised many people, himself included, that he managed to survive this long. He's made a good-faith effort to carry out the contract because he takes pride in his work, but he can see the people he's hired falling one by one while the Wardens' team remains standing. 

He watches their archer collapse, only to be revived by their mage. There is no way that he will be able to win this fight.

It isn't until he sees the Wardens up close that he realizes how young they are, probably even younger than him. He was carrying out assassinations when he was barely out of childhood but the surprise makes him falter and his opponent--the taller one, the man--moves in to strike at him and he stumbles.

_Death is like the stench of garlic on your breath hours after eating._

The sky is still bright but the clouds look gray closer to the horizon. It's going to rain soon.

Zevran registers that he's lying on the ground and is badly injured, but alive. All of his people have been killed. The Wardens presumably left him alive because they were hoping to question him. He doesn't have too much shame to tell them everything he can. He thinks of it as payment in advance for ending his life. 

He blinks up at them. The male Warden is fair-skinned and fair-haired. The female Warden, the short one, has skin that's a shade or two darker than Zevran's and black hair tied in a knot at the base of her neck. The rest of the team is looking to her for her reaction, as if she's the leader. She watches him warily with lovely brown eyes. 

They're both so _young_. Is it fair to ask them to do this? He'd been expecting older, battle-hardened veterans. He has a sudden, ridiculous thought-

He introduces himself, “I am Zevran Arainai, Zev to my friends.” He should provoke them into finishing what they started.

Instead, he proposes to work for them in exchange for his life. 

The male Warden looks skeptical but the female Warden keeps glancing at his thighs, where the leather skirt of his armor is riding up. He can hardly blame her; he does have very nice legs. He blatantly offers to warm her bed, in addition to fighting and lock-picking and whatever else she would have him do. It wouldn't be difficult or unpleasant to sleep with her; she's not unattractive by any means.

She asks him questions but it's obvious that she's stalling for time while she decides what to do with him. She's considering it, at least. He's never been on the side of the heroes before. It's a novel idea.

This is foolish. He came here to die and that's what he deserves. Taliesin always said that he was selfish and impulsive.

She agrees to spare him. There's some grumbling among her companions but none of them directly challenge her. She smiles and crouches down to meet him because he can't stand up. “My name is Grace Cousland. I look forward to working with you, Zevran.”

They heal him instead of killing him like they should have. He is weak.

 

* * *

 

Grace Cousland (whom everyone refers to as “the Warden,” which oddly doesn't seem to bother the other Warden) is evidently from a family of rich humans who are very important in Ferelden. Zevran isn't intimidated. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept with nobility, or even the first time since arriving in Ferelden. Not that she's actually taken him up on his offers yet, or even indicated that she plans to, but she's stopped trying to be subtle about staring at his legs, and his mouth, and more recently his hands when he's opening a lock or twirling a knife between his fingers. Zevran isn't positive but he's also pretty sure that he's caught her checking out his ass a few times. He tries to flirt with her as often and as openly as possible. If this is what she wants from him, he'd might as well make it as easy for her as he can. 

He isn't too proud to admit that he'd also really like to bed her, but that's not what matters right now.

This Grey Warden business seems to consist of lots of walking, occasionally interspersed with fighting, helping people, and trying to recruit allies. Grace tries to help almost everyone they meet. He learns that she recently saved an entire tower of mages after even the templars had given up on them. He's pleased to notice that she almost always brings him along. He teases her about doing it so that she has more opportunities to admire his body but there's no denying that they do fight well together, with her drawing enemy attention so that he can sneak around to stab them from behind.

She is interested in weapons. Zevran, who grew up with a dagger in his hand before he was able to hold a spoon, also thought of himself as being interested in weaponry up until the point where he'd spent ten minutes listening to Grace argue with a merchant about harmonics and distal taper and there was no sign that the discussion would be resolved any time soon. 

Her interest is evidently not limited to non-magical weapons. She annoys Morrigan and Wynne with constant questions about how staves work and why they aren't balanced for melee combat. He's even seen her spend occasional evenings asking Sandal about the process of enchantment and nodding thoughtfully at any response he gives. One day, after they've defeated a group of enemy mages, Grace gives Morrigan a very long explanation that Zevran can barely understand about why Morrigan should sell the staff she'd just found and was admiring, because of something about how the one she currently has will hold its enchantment better. Morrigan looks at the Warden thoughtfully and _admits that she is right_. Zevran gapes at both of them but Grace just smiles and continues to check the bodies for valuables, as if she hadn't just accomplished something miraculous. He thinks, idly, that Rinna would have liked her. 

She likes to talk with him in the evenings while she's endlessly fiddling with her sword or adjusting the straps on her shield. She's especially curious about Antiva, even though she already seems to know more about Zevran's homeland than he would have thought. She explains that she's never been to Antiva but her brother married a woman from there, so it seems both exotic and familiar. 

It unfortunately isn’t a euphemism when she announces out of nowhere that he's been sharpening his sword the wrong way offers to do it for him, but she encourages him to tell her about his life while she's working and before long, night has fallen and his blades are looking better than he's ever seen them. He asks if she was a smith before the Blight and she doesn't try to hide the bitterness in her voice when she says that it is not an appropriate occupation for a young noblewoman. 

 

It's not much of a surprise when it happens. There's a lull in their conversation when she says, quietly, that she'd like him to join her in her tent. Sten is on watch and he doesn't visibly react when Zevran follows her inside, but Zevran knows that he notices.

It's pitch black inside of the tent. He feels for her hand and traces along the muscles in her arm up to her face. He finds her mouth with his fingertips and brings his lips to hers. She exhales quietly against him as they kiss, pressing their bodies together. He can feel one of her hands reach around to squeeze his ass. She grins against his mouth. Her other hand is cupping his face and he can feel her tracing the raised edge of his tattoos and the ridge of his ear.

They undress carefully and he guides her to lie down on her back, running his hands up her legs until his face is between them. She is very quiet but he can feel her thighs tensing and her fingers flex against his head and he doesn't stop until he's brought her off with his mouth. He has a brief fantasy of her being loud, perhaps even screaming his name, if they were in another situation and not in a tent with thin walls in the middle of a camp full of people. 

He feels her pulling him up by the shoulders and he follows. He hears her moan softly when she feels how hard he is against her thigh. She brings her mouth to his—she hits his nose first but she finds her way down to his lips—and she kisses the taste of herself from his mouth. She quietly asks him to fuck her.

They move into position cautiously- neither of them are large people but it's a small tent and it's too easy to elbow each other in the dark. She lies down on her stomach with him over her. He enters her, kissing her shoulders and the side of her face. She whispers that he can finish inside of her and he thinks it's odd but he can't bring himself to deny her anything.

She asks him to stay afterward. He has trouble sleeping but he spends the night holding her, with his face pressed against her neck. Her hair smells like smoke from the campfire. In the morning, she braids his hair and he buckles her into her armor.

Grace continues to invite him to sleep with her, much to his delight, and it isn't long before the whole camp knows about them. Many of them confront Grace about it, with advice ranging from quiet judgment about her choice in partners to frank warnings that Zevran will kill her. He tries not to overhear them but it makes his face feel hot when she defends him. He doesn't deserve her. Morrigan is the only one with either the decency or the audacity to directly accuse him of seducing the Warden so that he can assassinate her more easily. He almost laughs in her face at the idea.

 

She gives him Dalish gloves. She says that she found them and thought of his story about his mother's gloves. He had no idea that she'd remembered, let alone that it would occur to her to give these to him. She's given him little gifts before but this seems different, more meaningful. People don't just give gifts like this, especially not to him. He's bewildered, happy, and nervous, and something else he can't articulate. She tells him about her own family and he rubs her back while she cries into his shoulder.

She goes out of her way to recover Sten's sword. She handles it with reverence, sincerely praising its beauty and excellent craftsmanship as she returns it to him. Zevran gets the feeling that Sten is only barely managing to avoid breaking down and crying in front of all of them. He thinks about Morrigan's mother and Alistair's sister and tries to remind himself that Grace does meaningful things like this for everyone. It doesn't mean anything.

 

* * *

 

He is in Denerim again. It feels like the last time he saw the city was in another life, when he was about to die soon and he was looking at the world for the final time. He doesn't have much time for self-indulgent melancholy because Grace informs him that he needs better armor and steers him toward a shop.

They've barely gotten the door open when he hears “Lady Cousland!”

“Master Wade!” She calls in return. “How have you been? What are you working on?” Zevran watches, bemused, as she rushes past him to embrace a human man with rather delightful facial hair. They immediately launch into a very fast and very technical conversation. Zevran notices another human standing behind a counter and glaring at them.

He looks at Zevran and rolls his eyes. Zevran shrugs. “Would you like a chair?” he asks. “They're going to be at it for at least an hour.”

It's closer to three hours, actually, but she places an order for new, high-quality leather armor for Zevran before they leave so he has a hard time being irritated.

It's wonderful to see Isabela again. She's looking good, much healthier than when he last saw her. She flirts shamelessly with Grace and teases her about having the wrong name when she turns out to be terrible at Wicked Grace (in the Warden's defense, she claims that her parents named her after a flower). 

 

They manage to have privacy and the use of a bed while they're staying at the palace, and they're both pulling each other’s clothes off as soon as the door is locked behind them.

She grins up at him as he binds her arms together above her head. He positions her at the edge of the bed with her legs spread apart so that he can stand on the floor and fuck into her and all she can do is squirm against him and beg for his hands. (She is louder now and it is _excellent_.) He teases her breasts first, flicking her nipples with the tips of his fingers until he's heard her moan enough that he'll never forget the sound. 

He finally decides to show mercy on her and rub her clit until she climaxes beautifully and loudly, and then the sight of her face contorting in pleasure is enough for him to finish as well.

He kisses her arms after he unties them. They sit on the bed naked and drink mediocre wine before crawling under the blankets and falling asleep.

When they wake up, she decides to return the favor. She can't figure out the complicated knot work that he'd used so she just ties his wrists and ankles to the bedposts and rides him. She's watching him intently and he can't quite identify the expression in her face. It's intense, almost as if she can see everything in his mind and she still somehow wants to fight alongside him and ride his dick and talk about loss around a dying campfire. It's too much. He has to bury his face in the crook of his arm when he comes.

 

* * *

 

_I think I'm in love with you._

_I think I'm in love with you._

He can't stop thinking it. The refrain is constant in his head. 

He will not tell her.

Zevran barely knows what love is, let alone if that is indeed what he's feeling. He can hardly confess a suspicion to her. There is too much risk and it's very unlikely that anything good will come of it. He will not tell her.

He starts calling her _amora_. If she asks about it, he has a speech prepared about how Antivan is a flowery, dramatic language that is prone to hyperbole. She never asks.

 

Killing Taliesin hurts less than he'd thought. He'd hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but he thinks they both knew that it would. He feels strange inside, almost hollow. 

 

He gives her the earring. THE earring, the one possession that's been his throughout everything else. She would have looted it from his body if she'd killed him so it's hers by right, in any case. He's apprehensive that it's going to be a difficult conversation but she just thanks him and pushes it through a hole in her ear. It suits her, he thinks.

She's so calm and understanding when he refuses to go to bed with her that it doesn't occur to him to panic until later. He'd said that he would sleep with her in exchange for his life and now he isn't holding up his end of the deal. It is true that this part of the agreement was implied, and she did release him from his oath- but this is still very much not okay. He should not refuse her like this. Zevran clenches his hands into fists, wondering what he was thinking. It would be reasonable if they were lovers; neither of them can be expected to be interested at all times, but it's not- they can't possibly be-

_I think I'm in love with you._

In the end, he asks for a future with her, to be allowed to remain by her side and continue whatever it is between them that he isn't brave enough or good enough to name.

“I don't have much of a future,” she says, “but I will give you the time that I have.”

It's enough.

 

“I actually have some jewelry for you, too,” she says. She produces two rings from her pack, little iron serpents swallowing their own tails. 

He's seen the image before; it's a common motif in Rivaini tattoos, among other things. He waits cautiously for her to explain.

“I'm not trying to marry you—there are a lot of reasons why that can't happen—but I found these and I liked the symbolism.” She slowly exhales. “This isn't the life that either of us were supposed to live, but sometimes endings are also beginnings. I thought we could wear them?” She looks hopeful.

She gives everybody rings and amulets that she thinks will help in battle (“Even the slightest advantage can save your life!”) but this is different. He thanks her awkwardly and then redeems himself somewhat with a charming smile. He tests the ring on his fingers until he finds the one that fits best, while she does the same. It's warm against his skin.

 

* * *

 

They're about to fight the Archdemon. He isn't sure what to say to her.

_I think I'm in love with you._

She speaks to everyone in turn until she reaches him last. There's a pause. They're both sore and exhausted but there's too much adrenaline to feel it yet. They make eye contact and hold it. 

“I love you,” she says.

He stares at her stupidly. He wants to say it back--he should have said it a long time ago--but if he does it now then it will seem perfunctory, like he's only doing what he thinks she wants. But if he doesn't tell her, will she think that he doesn't also love her? He should have said it before so she would know that he means it. He doesn't know what to do.

He has apparently waited too long because she smiles and kisses him, and then turns to address everyone and go over last-minute plans for the battle.

 

Zevran doesn't see it when the Archdemon is slain because he's lying on the ground with an injured leg and Wynne is too far away to revive him. All he knows is that there is a deafening roar, and then silence.

After what feels like hours, Grace is running toward him as quickly as she can in her heavy armor. She pulls her helmet off to examine his wound and he notices that she's still wearing the earring.

She patches him up with an injury kit and hands him a potion. He's limping but it's enough for him to be able to stand and walk on his own. 

They embrace, giddy and exhausted. “We're alive,” she breathes.

“Amazing, no?”

She looks uncomfortable. “I was supposed to die today. I honestly didn't think that it would work and I was ready to die.”

“You shouldn't judge your own battle strategies so harshly, _amora_ -”

“No, it's not that. There is something that I didn't tell you. I wasn't supposed to tell you but I should have done it anyway and I will, later, when we're alone.”

“Of course.” Years of suspicion aren't so easily ignored but he will pretend to not think about it, whatever it is, until she's ready to tell him. They are both alive and the Archdemon is dead. That is what's important.

He feels the indentation of the ring through his glove.

“I love you,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Iron_Ring) is the ring that Cousland gives Zevran. It's just random vendor trash but my m!Tabris was a dork who saved two of them and equipped them on his and Zev's left hands and it seemed like something that she would do.
> 
> [After The Storm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqUsAHTUPTU) by Mumford & Sons was stuck in my head while I was writing this. It's possibly just because of the line "with grace in your heart" but I think it fits pretty well.


End file.
